


For Oahu's Sake

by mara_joy



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Community: kissemdanno, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mara_joy/pseuds/mara_joy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny bitches for the safety of Oahu and all of Oahu's--and eventually the world's--citizens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Oahu's Sake

Danny was sitting on Steve's couch. The both of them just languidly sitting back. Well, Steve was. Danny was doing what he did best.

Bitch.  
   
It hadn’t been a special day or anything. There weren’t any near-death experiences, no bullets whizzing by their heads, no exploding boats or cars and the only damage the state had to pay for was caused by a landslide courtesy of the nice little storm that decided to dump a foot of rain overnight. And that was what started it all. The foot of effing rain that came an hour or two after the sun set.  
   
 _Oh Danno, it wasn’t a foot. Just a couple inches. And that area’s been wasting away for a while._  
   
 _But it did happen overnight, Steven. And my ass it was ‘just a couple inches.’ Just a couple inches does not demolish parts of the earth and cause it to crumble like those cookies my aunt used to make it. Jesus Christ, my aunt is one of the sweetest damned ladies there is but those cookies are as dangerous to anybody’s lungs as damned asbestos. You don’t wanna breathe when you’re taking a bite, your bronchi would never survive the onslaught. Moreover, a couple inches does not obliterate the forces of nature in the span of 8 hours. Not in the sane parts of the world._  
   
He was aware his hands had been flying. He was aware that he spoke with his entire body, arms waving and fingers pointing and circling just as quickly as the words would find its way of his mouth. He knew he was a ranter. Short, sweet, and to the point had never really been his style. Where he was from, as scrawny and just plain _little_ he’d been, his mouth got him out of trouble most times before he went from stick-y to stocky. It was either try to bullshit his way out, or for the first thirteen years of his life, he’d have been bulldozed.  
   
Year fourteen and his freshman year of high school, when insulting jocks who really didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about just ended with him being dunked headfirst into a toilet, his fists started flying as rapidly, and as aggressively, as his words did.  
   
By year sixteen, his reputation as that ‘scrawny little brawler’ was suddenly ‘don’t let the height fool you, kid’s a brickhouse. Got a mouth on him too.’  
   
Over the next eighteen years, the brawler in him kinda faded but the long-windedness just sort of…flourished. And then there was the police academy, then getting rammed into by a pretty, big brown-eyed Brit, then having a beautiful, big brown-eyed baby girl, and getting left by the first and having the second one taken away. And then there was Hawaii. And Five-0.  
   
He found ways to let the brawler out—legal ways. Constructive ways. Ways _not_ frowned upon in polite society. Ways his partner needed some instruction on. In big, flashing, neon letters. With big, flashing, neon arrows. Hell, go wild, throw a couple of explosions in there, that would _definitely_ catch Commander Mc _Cracked_ ’s attention. But, then that would mess with the whole ‘appropriate for the general audiences’ bit wouldn’t it?  
   
Damn the man for being equal parts attractive as he was bat-shit fucking _insane._  
   
And god help him, but the bat-shit part probably reinforced the attractive part more than was healthy. How was this his life? What the hell could he have possibly done to deserve this?  
   
He’d been a good Irish-Catholic boy. Except for that time he and Mary Kearney sneaked behind the nun’s convent. And the time he and Kyle Boyle hid across the hall from the convent.  
   
Oh.  
   
Well shit.  
   
He gave a mental shrug. _Oh well._ Boys will be boys, as Mamaw always said.  
   
And he was mostly just spiritual now. And Kyle had had as good a mouth on him as he did.  
   
Not many people had been as open to his…bluster as Kyle had been. And even then, open wasn’t quite the right word. Vaguely tolerant fit better, and that’s probably why that relationship didn’t last beyond three months and past the closet.  
   
He usually got head-shakes, or red faces, even as a full-grown adult. He’d either get arguments back or hands thrown up as they turned away, cursing his name and sometimes his mother.  
   
Whoever brought his precious Mom into it, usually got introduced to the less talkative him, and the more ‘I’m going to bust your fucking, pathetic face in’ him.  
   
Then Steve came into his life. Steve with his unstable mind and too expressive face. Steve with his eyes and his lips and his freakishly long lashes. Steve with his too fond accepteance of anything that came out of Danny’s mouth, especially if it involved anything to do with his unstable mind. Most times anyway.  
   
Steve with all of his stupid faces that said so much more than the man ever would.  
   
Was it horrible that he had a list for those faces? All broken down into emotions, degree of severity, and what the consequences would be for the island of Oahu and his own sanity.  
   
The face right there? Right across from him on the couch? Was Face #17, which was an amalgamation of Face #4: _C4 for me? You shouldn’t have!_  and Face #9: _If I wasn’t big, bad-ass, motherfucking Captain America, I’d squish you_.  
   
Danny had no idea when the word _squish_ became a part of his vocabulary but he had some vague idea his Grace had something to do with it.  
   
But anyway.  
   
Face #17? Made him want to do all sorts of things to it and the man it was attached to.  
   
It made him want to trace those smiling eyes and smiling lips. It made him wish he could get away with snapping a picture of it—solely for when his partner did something well beyond the normal range of _Holy Jesus Fuck, McGarrett! You need help! I will pay for it! You freaking caveman._ and he needed a reason to _not_ kill the lunatic.  
   
It made him feel all sorts of warm, fuzzy, stupid feelings and want to just throw shit into the wind, grab McDorko and haul him in. Show him what else his mouth was good at besides ripping through sentences and tossing words left and right at the speed of light.  
   
“McDorko, Danno?” Steve’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Really?”  
   
At first, all he could do was sit there. Staring. Wondering in the back of his mind if his mouth was doing that ‘ _fishy! Fishy!’_ thing that cracked Grace up in that one movie.  
   
After a couple seconds of just staring at the stupid, amused face, he was able to manage a very intelligent, very expressive, “Huh?”  
   
Fuck but he wanted to slug that smirk right off of those lips. “I know you can do better things with your mouth than that. I’ve heard better, you’ve done better. That wasn’t one of your finest, I gotta admit.” Steve leaned back against the couch, brought his legs up to the coffee table, crossed his feet at the ankles. He lifted his arms, intertwined his fingers behind his head and just looked the picture of relaxation.  
   
Danny hated him so, so much.  
   
“That’s not the idea I’m getting.” The bastard winked and damn it, sometimes even he had to agree he needed a new barrier between his brain and his mouth.  
   
Danny couldn’t help the smile on his face when Steve flashed Face #17 at him again, this time with a helping of Face #13: _You can’t resist me._  
   
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”  
   
The only answer he got was a widening smile and did the asshole just bat his eyelashes?  
   
“So what else is that loquacious mouth capable of, Danno?” And seriously? That’s what he was going for?  
   
“I don’t think so, McGarrett. It ain’t gonna be that easy. You’re working for this shit.”  
   
The bottom of his stomach dropped off as Steve’s face slid from soft and easygoing to one he wore when he was about to blow a grenade up in a confined space.  
   
And Danny had nothing to duck behind.  
   
Steve, carefully, slowly, dropped his arms to his side. Lifted his legs off the coffee table.  
   
Danny swallowed roughly and pushed himself to his feet. “Want a beer? I’m gonna grab us a couple beers.”  
   
He made it across the room; thought he was safe, felt a mixture of relief and just fucking _disappointment_ before he sensed a looming presence behind him. And _shit,_ Steve hadn’t even made a sound, the freaking Ninja. Big hands grabbed his shoulders and turned him around.  
   
Those eyes weren’t lighthearted anymore. The laughing blue-grey had all but disappeared behind pupils blown wide and intense. Something coiled deep in Danny.  
   
He took a step back, away from the force of that gaze. Steve took one forward. He took another back and cursed when his back hit a wall.  
   
Sometimes he forgot how big Steve was. Sure, he couldn’t forget how tall the other man—damn Yeti. But sometimes he forgot just how…solid his partner really was. He himself wasn’t lacking in the bulk department, he had a healthy enough view of himself. But Steve just blocked shit _out_.  
   
Danny usually wasn’t the one on the receiving end of it. Could only think of one other time, and that was almost two years ago—Steve had learned quickly enough from his right hook not to do it again. So yeah…he forgot.  
   
His heart pounded when Steve lifted his arms again, boxed him in. Moved in closer and damn it, Danny had to drop his head back against the wall to look into his eyes.  
   
Still intense, still concentrating completely on him and Danny was almost positive the sound of his pounding heart was being picked up by SuperSeal’s super senses.  
   
 As Steve looked down at him, eyes flicking from his and down to…well looky at that.  
   
Steve’s pupils got even larger and his lips parted slightly. Danny’s pants got a little tighter.  
   
“What are you doing?”  
   
The smile Steve gave him was feral. Wild. And Danny thought he liked it so, so much.  
   
In the next second, damned if he was thinking anything as the feel of Steve’s lips on his, Steve’s tongue pushing past and gliding against his, Steve’s teeth scraping against his bombarded his senses.  
   
It’s frantic, more than a little clumsy, and the both of them are fighting for dominance—of course they are, why would this be different from everything else? It’s harsh and nowhere near polished. As he swallows Steve’s groan, feels hardness against his stomach, Danny thinks it’s fucking perfect.  
   
Before he knows it, he’s gripping Steve’s shirt in both hands and twisting them, their lips never separate even as suddenly, it’s Steve letting out a grunt because Danny has just switched their positions and slammed Steve into the wall. Danny just growls as he deepens the kiss again, removing a hand to grip at Steve’s chin.  
   
“Jesus Fucking Christ, Danny.” Steve manages when they part, dots dancing in their vision and breath panting. “Your fucking mouth.”  
   
Danny lets out a ragged laugh and finds himself stroking Steve’s cheek. “Not so bad yourself, Aquaman.” And because he couldn’t resist, “Told you.”  
   
The smile Steve gets is so boyish, Danny has to put his lips on it again. He laughs into it when Steve all but purrs.  
   
“Doesn’t count. You didn’t mean to. You just talk too fucking much.”  
   
Danny rolls his eyes. He still got a handle on Steve’s shirt, the fabric tight in his fingers. Steve’s got a hand on the side of his face, thumb rubbing absently along his jaw, the texture of it calloused, the touch of it gentle.  
   
And doesn’t that just sum Steven J. McGarrett up perfectly.  
   
“I have to talk, Steven. If I don’t, god knows what you’re going to get up to. My talking keeps you from going completely ridiculous and sinking Oahu. I’m doing my civic duty in talking. I oughta get overtime for this shit. Because you, my friend, you are ridiculous.” He thumped a finger into Steve’s chest. Feels a rush of affection as he remembers the first time he did it and thinks of where they are now. “I’m a skilled professional. And my mouth has a great deal to do with that. I have to talk down a terrorist with this mouth on a daily basis, do you get what I’m saying, babe? A terrorist. This job needs better benefits.”  
   
Steve’s eyes laugh at him. “You should talk to your boss. He might be able to help you out with the benefits. I hear he’s a reasonable guy.”  
   
The snort that busts out of Danny kind of hurts his throat. “Reasonable guy? You hear he’s a reasonable guy.” He lifts his eyebrows. “I can’t even…” Danny shakes his head.  
   
“I have it on good authority that he appreciates your mouth a great deal.” The asshole shouldn’t be capable of looking that adorable, not as deadly as Danny knew he was. “But he feels like he can’t fully understand the full range of appreciation he should have without more demonstration. It’s for the good of the public, of course. He needs to be made aware of the talents of his team so he can make the best use of them in any given situation.”  
   
Danny looks at him, feeling the fondness just well up. “Oh really? And am I supposed to just go along with this?”  
   
Steve’s hands trailed down his arms, whisper-soft until he was _holding his hands_. Danny had no idea what to do with this man. “I think you would be remiss in your duty otherwise. And I think we both know that you’re much too good of a detective to even consider that.”  
   
Sometimes Danny really wished he knew just how the hell his partner’s brain worked. And sometimes, as he stepped past Steve, one hand still held in the other man’s, those damned eyes told him all he needed to know.  
   
Danny knew he talked a lot. Probably more than most circumstances warrant. And as Steve cupped his cheek, more tender than Danny would’ve thought he was capable of, lips gentle and light on his, tongue sneaking out every now and then when Danny tried to speak, Danny knew he’d up his rant quota just a bit.  
   
If only for the continued safety of Oahu. And what's bound to be the rest of the planet.


End file.
